


I Have No Time For Idle Cares

by LunaChi_KuroShihone



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Asexual Katsuki Mari, Awkward Flirting, Companionable Snark, Didn't Know They Were Flirting, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, F/M, Georgi Popovich is a mess, Getting to Know Each Other, Introspection, Matchmaker Mari, Rare Pairings, Romance, Snark, she didn't know she was matchmaking herself, this is a thing now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 19:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20141134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaChi_KuroShihone/pseuds/LunaChi_KuroShihone
Summary: She had devised a plan: theDo Not Fuck This Up Georgiplan, but still a plan. Which is why she slammed a book down next to the Russian's miserable and hungover head and said, drawl in her voice. "This is an empty notebook. Over the course of the next few weeks -- yes, don't worry, Mom likes having you around -- we will fill it with everything that will work on wooing a girl. I will help you, on the chance that you don't remember last night."Georgi eyed it like one may eye a death sentence in the waiting. "Are you sure, Miss Mari--""--Call me Mari, we're not that far apart in age--""--are you sure, Mari, that this will work?" His eyes did a funny thing. "Everyone always says that I'mtoo obsessedwith romance."Mari mentally rolled her eyes.I wonder why.Still, this was her trying to help out one of Yuuri's friends, so instead she said: "And I'm as interested in it as I'm interested in ballet, which means I tried it once and figured that it wasn't for me. Come on, this'll at least give us something to do until Yuuri and Viktor are back."(There was a lie in that sentence, but she wasn't sure what.)





	I Have No Time For Idle Cares

**Author's Note:**

> I have entered a rarepair hell for a pair I never thought I'd write. The idea was so incredibly ridiculous that I had to try it out. The title is from Edgar Allan Poe's 'Romance', which is the poem sprinkled throughout the fic and which I had way too much fun choosing.  
I hope you'll like it! 
> 
> (funnily enough there's no reason why this _couldn't_ be a part of either of my supernatural series, I simply like it better on it's own)

It was strange, Mari thought, seeing the sheepish Russian man ask her mother if he could maybe stay for a few days, how uncannily like déjà-vu the whole scene felt. Georgi was like Viktor in many ways -- just as extra, just as invested in love -- but there was something about him that looked almost haunted, an expression and a countenance born of always being second best, of always being in the shadows of Viktor. He was currently trying to convince Hiroko to take his money, but Mari's mother would have none of that, tutting gently and turning his hand away.

What was it with Russian men finding solace in Hasetsu anyways? First it was Viktor, then Yurio and now Georgi.

Mari rolled her eyes and chose to help Georgi out of his plight -- trying to reason with Mama Katsuki when she had her mind set on something was a futile endeavor -- and she stepped away from the corner and towards him.

"This is a battle you won't win, Popovich. It's easier to just accept it and move on."

Georgi raised an eyebrow but relented nonetheless, a charming smile curling at his lips. "Then allow me to thank you for your graciousness, at least."

Hiroko beamed at him and he stumbled mid-thanks, her sunny demeanor catching him so obviously off-guard that Mari had to suppress a snicker. "Come on, then -- you missed Yuuri and Viktor by a few days, there's a photoshoot in Tokyo right now."

Georgi shrugged. "I simply wanted to get away from home, you see? I'll probably be out of your hair by the time Vitya is back; I wouldn't want to intrude."

And with that, he fell silent.

* * *

_ **Romance, who loves to nod and sing, ** _

_ **With drowsy head and folded wing,** _

* * *

Mari wouldn't call them _friends _per se, not in the way she counted Yurio or Phichit -- all three of them were her brother's friends first, but she felt something close to _sisterly affection_ for the two younger skaters, and they kept her in-the-loop about Yuuri's various escapades. It was fun. Georgi was neutral ground, so to speak. She'd been passively following his newest relationship on instagram, having been roped into it with snide comments and screenshots from the Russian Punk, and for once in his apparently miserable love-life everything seemed to be going reasonably well. It was always _Katerina this _and _Katerina that,_ the pale-haired, green eyed woman a breath of fresh air after Anya (from what Mari had heard, at least), with the rest of the Russian skaters getting along quite well with her.

The reason for their breakup / pause in relationship was not clear, but Georgi's sheer _anguish_ over it was: they were drinking, well past sloshed at this point, and Georgi was crying his eyes out.

_Whoever said that Russians could hold their alcohol well had obviously never met the two Christmas Wonders_, Mari thought, wryly. They'd be such disgraces if the public ever found out; _Yuuri_ could hold his alcohol better than them.

"An- and then she told me that I don't appreshiate the-- the _finer things in life. _Me! An' that my poetry _ishhh _bad--" Georgi sniffed. "Can you believe it! _We have so much in common!_ And yet, and yet--! _What am I doing wrong?!"_

He was crying now, and Mari felt abruptly out of her element. She never had to console someone over a bad breakup -- mostly only threaten to come after an undeserving partner with her motorbike and a baseball bat. The closest that she had done was warn Viktor that Yuuri could be a goddamn _prick_ when he got too lost in his own head, and that obviously had gone over well enough; they were going to marry after the Olympics this season.

Georgi was still wailing, cursing about the unfairness of it all, and how he and Katerina were the perfect match, the longest relationship he's ever had, and how she had started to give him the cold shoulder when they were in private, these last few months.

"Alright, _that's it. _Popovich, stop crying -- god knows I can't stand it anymore. Just, stop."

Georgi stopped, big watery eyes glancing at her through wet lashes.

Mari grit her teeth. _Finally, blessed silence._

His expression was kind of wobbly-looking, that haunted look returning to it, and Mari gave in. "_Fine-! _I'll help you, just, stop with the crying. Katerina is obviously an ass if she doesn't see that you're the best damn thing that has ever happened to her, so we'll _show her._"

Was it a bit passive-aggressive? Yes.

Did Mari care? No, not at all. She'd been as invested as Yurio was in the relationship though (meaning: they traded snarky comments about it, constantly), but while it was public and obvious how Anya didn't return his feelings anymore, Katerina and him seemed to almost out-cute Yuuri and Viktor, and she could read enough subtext in Yurio's posts and messages to see that everyone at the rink had been happy that Georgi finally found love for himself.

In conclusion: Mari would help this miserable Russian to get his girlfriend back, because living in someone's shadow was hard enough even without constant breakup drama. And she'd rather not have it influence his upcoming season (she _did _pay attention to skating, no matter what Yuuri thought). No-one needed a recap of _Anya._

* * *

**_Among the green leaves as they shake _**

** ** _Far down within some shadowy lake, _ ** **

* * *

She had devised a plan: the _Do Not Fuck This Up Georgi_ plan, but still a plan. Which is why she slammed a book down next to the Russian's miserable and hungover head and said, drawl in her voice. "This is an empty notebook. Over the course of the next few weeks -- yes, don't worry, Mom likes having you around -- we will fill it with everything that will work on wooing a girl. I will help you, on the chance that you don't remember last night."

Georgi eyed it like one may eye a death sentence in the waiting. "Are you sure, Miss Mari--"

"--Call me Mari, we're not that far apart in age--"

"--are you sure, Mari, that this will work?" His eyes did a funny thing. "Everyone always says that I'm _too obsessed_ with romance."

Mari mentally rolled her eyes. _I wonder why._ Still, this was her trying to help out one of Yuuri's friends, so instead she said: "And I'm as interested in it as I'm interested in ballet, which means I tried it once and figured that it wasn't for me. Come on, this'll at least give us something to do until Yuuri and Viktor are back."

(There was a lie in that sentence, but she wasn't sure what.)

* * *

It turned out to be a herculean endeavor, Mari found out, because Georgi really was extreme -- some of his ideas were so outlandish that she had to bite back a laugh and then deadpan pointed out the obvious flaws in them, subtly reminding him that not _everyone _was like Viktor or Yuuri or Georgi himself; and even then, Georgi's brand of affection was quite different from Viktors. There was something almost maniac in the way Georgi tried to prove himself, in the way Georgi loved, that even Mari had to take a step back and blink, stunned at how fast his mood-shifts happened.

Some of his tamer ones -- poetry, a weekly date at a cute café in St. Petersburg, flowers once a month -- were acceptable.

His poetry _skills _were not, though.

"That was the worst haiku I've ever heard, full offense."

Georgi didn't even seem fazed. "I know. I'm bad at them, but Katerina loves poetry."

Mari stared down at the slowly-filling notebook. It was a slow week at the onsen, so she's had a surprising amount of free time, and they were getting along nicely. Her brother would arrive in two days with Viktor and Minako, and then she would rope those three into it as well, and between the five of them, it should work out, maybe.

She still had hope.

"Alright. Continue with the poetry -- my father has a collection of haikus, they might help you, just translate them with an app or something. On to our next point…"

Georgi nodded, pretending to listen but actually not, in the same way Yuuri would do, his gaze becoming unfocussed and slightly hazy. Mari sighed. Maybe they had done enough for today. "What's wrong?"

Georgi seemed to deflate. "This is hopeless. I'm hopeless."

Mari winced. "Hey, no, you're not. Ugh -- I'm bad at this; but no. You're, uh, spirited, and --" She stopped. He was eyeing her, mirth dancing in his eyes. She groaned. "Okay, all right. We're both hopeless, look at us."

He laughed.

* * *

**_To me a painted paroquet _**

** ** _Hath been—a most familiar bird— _ ** **

* * *

Viktor and Yuuri -- especially Yuuri -- were eyeing Mari with weird looks a week later, her little brother looking as if he was about to ask something but then decided against it, trying and failing to spend that much time with their fellow rinkmate because they were needed elsewhere almost constantly -- Viktor had been invited to skate in an ice show by some past skater in America, Yuuri with him, and they were getting ready before they had to leave in a few day's time. When Mari had asked Georgi why he wasn't going he'd told her that he'd been invited as well, but that he didn't want to aggravate his recent knee injury any further.

He had fallen at Worlds, two months ago, and was told to take it easy if he wanted to recover for the Olympics -- it sounded absurd to Mari, considering they were roughly a year away, but it seemed completely reasonable to Yuuri that taking it easy was the right thing to do, so she'd kept her mouth shut.

"I don't even know what I'll do when I stop skating after the games; I know Vitya's in the same boat, but he's got the stability of Hasetsu now." Then his voice lowered, so as to not be heard by the cuddling couple. "He was in a really bad space before Yuurik found him, so thank you."

And Mari, who's been around her brother and Viktor enough to notice things, didn't ask _and you? How did you feel during all of it?_ Because who thinks about looking after people like Mari and Georgi, about asking how they cope with all of it? Mari has her parents and Minako -- who does Georgi have, but their grumpy coach who's even worse at being emotional than her?

Still, she showed him around Hasetsu, took him to stupidly romantic places for inspiration, showed him the pier and harbor and the Ninja Castle. Took him to the abandoned temple up in the woods once she found out that he's interested in the occult, listened to his mad ramblings about spirits and ghosts and evocations with a wry grin and then directed him to the nearest curiosity shop where he bought a guidebook on Japanese spirits and thanked her afterwards.

"Katerina thinks it's silly, that I believe in ghosts." Mari shrugged, feeling something like resentment curl inside her before she answered, no irony or pity in her voice, "Have you ever heard the story of why our onsen is the last one in town? It apparently started way back in the Edo period with a youkai."

Georgi smiled at her.

* * *

Things Mari found out about Georgi that surprised her (or not):

He's stupidly talented with a needle, repairing a torn costume for Viktor last minute before he and her little brother left for America for the next two weeks to a delighted, heart-shaped "Thanks, Gosha!" He demurred when asked about it, but admitted that his mother was a seamstress back in the "Old Days" and had taught him everything he currently knew.

He also had an incredible eye for color cohesion and detail and was thinking about doing something with costumes once he retired -- becoming a designer was his best idea.

He had zero ability for composing haikus but knew a plethora of old, romantic poems by heart and could recite them on the spot, having started doing it when they were left alone and to their own devices, eliciting a groan from her and an annoyed glare. His current favorite was Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven, and he frequently compared himself to the lost soul thinking about his love. Mari found it annoying.

Then there was Georgi's willingness to help out Mama Katsuki (it had taken her three days to get him to call her that, faster even than with Viktor) in the kitchen, as he was comparatively much better than Viktor or Yuuri at cooking food outside of their sad training diet. Mari was more or less impressed.

He also had a lot of flower knowledge, slowly but surely adding Japanese flower language to his list of Western one, telling Mari all about the wonders of succulents and ivy and special moisturizing. Mari had rolled her eyes once he playfully presented her a wildflower from his latest treck to the temple and had told him that the only flowers she could keep alive were her two cacti, in her possession since she'd been eighteen and twenty one.

Georgi was the only Russian skater who could stomach horror movies and the only one who spoke some Ukrainian and Polish, having picked up the former from a TV show he religiously watched and the latter from his old coach before Yakov. He also was, like Mari, abysmal in ballet despite having taken it for the most part of his life.

(They had, indeed, spent an evening pleasantly buzzed comparing Minako and Madame Lilia's techniques and then proceeded to theorize how exactly the two primas knew each other. Georgi couldn't stomach the idea of an illicit affair behind the curtains on the ground of having only known Lilia in her marriage to Yakov, as strained as it had become in the end, but Mari retorted that it would have been before Lilia had known Yakov, and was thus entirely plausible. Or maybe all three knew each other. "It also would explain Minako's fondness for skaters.")

The most surprising thing however, was his genuine interest in her motorbike, once she'd shown it to him after having met up with old friends in Fukuoka by bike. "I had always wanted to learn riding one," he confessed, "but it was way too dangerous."

And then Mari had surprised herself by asking him if he'd be interested in a ride around town, and Georgi had agreed, holding onto her for dear life and being generally very freaked out and loving every minute of it.

(And the thing is: she still loves ballet, only differently now.)

* * *

**_Taught me my alphabet to say— _**

** ** _To lisp my very earliest word _ ** **

* * *

_You should talk to Gosha, he isn't responding_

Mari blinked down at her phone, eyebrow raising in surprise. She'd gotten closer to the last member of the Russian Skate Fam, as Mila so eloquently called them, because the woman was trying to smooth things out with Katerina on her end. So to get such a cryptic message was kind of worrisome, a little bit.

Mari groaned and flicked the butt of her cigarette to the others in the tray before she made her way over to the sentimental Russian's room, knocking on the door and then unceremoniously entering. "Popovich, is everything --_whoa, _what happened?"

Georgi had been crying, his phone dangling uselessly in his hand. "Nothing."

Mari counted to ten and prayed for strength. She leaned against the doorframe. "Bullshit. What happened."

Georgi snorted. "I tried calling Katerina, yes? I've been writing her and asking her to look after my plants -- she has a key to my apartment, some of her stuff is there -- she hasn't answered any of my texts. So I tried calling her, and then called Mila and asked her to get ahold of her, but Katerina hung up on me with barely any words."

Well, that explained Mila's text, at least. That didn't mean Mari wasn't still confused. "Isn't Katerina an artist or writer or something?"

Georgi shrugged. "She and Mila are friends." He eyed her. "The worst part is -- Katerina hung up on me because she was busy talking to Daniil, one of the pair skaters that share our rink."

Mari flinched. "Ouch. Yeah, I can see why you'd be upset." She weighted her options. "How about… ice cream and a horror movie?"

Georgi shrugged. "Don't you have work to do? I'd rather help with that, if it's all right with you."

"Suit yourself; then get in the kitchen, Mr. That's Not How You Prepare Tenderloin."

He cracked a smile at that, and Mari counted it as a success.

* * *

Life continued as it always did, a new cactus finding itself in her care, gifted to her by the dark-haired Russian as a thank you gift. Yuuri and Viktor came back and cheered Georgi up somewhat, the three of them going to the rink and skating and returning sometimes at the same time, sometimes not, though Mari found herself fetching Georgi whenever he stayed later than the other two.

He'd shoot her a wry grin he has to have picked up from her and recite her a terrible haiku, and she'd throw him a glare and a hair elastic she's kept around her wrist for this exact occasion, and then they'd be on their way back to the inn, Mari puffing smoke circles into the evening air as she listened to him talk, still vehemently ignoring his playful insistence that she should try to recite one as well; Mari had standards, thank you very much, and she'd rather be caught dead than reciting poetry. Something had changed within him after that evening, his tension leaving his form and some of the haunt disappearing from his eyes, giving way to melancholy and something like acceptance.

Mari didn't know what it was, but she was happy for him, in her own way.

And his haikus were getting better, if only somewhat.

* * *

One evening, when both Russians were still at the rink (or out and eating ramen, who knows where Viktor would drag them), she and Yuuri were sitting outside, winding down from the evening rush. Yuuri constantly shot her questioning looks but remained silent in the end, leaving her be with a silent murmur of _you've been much happier recently._ Mari froze and blinked after him, confused.

* * *

**_While in the wild wood I did lie, _**

** ** _A child—with a most knowing eye. _ ** **

* * *

That's how the four of them continued, dancing around each other and fitting into life in Hasetsu seamlessly, Mari not at all surprised anymore when she found Georgi helping her father prepare breakfast without asking her first if it was alright if he did, Viktor leaning against the counter next to them with a wounded look.

Mari snorted. "They threw you out?"

"They threw me out. It's not my fault that Gosha takes to cooking like a duck to water. I can cook too!"

"Not Japanese food, you can't."

Viktor grumbled and shot her the same look Yuuri constantly did, the _what the hell did I miss?_ kind of look, and Mari smirked for a lack of a better option. The three of them were leaving for Russia in three weeks, which was kind of sad because Hiroko enjoyed having the onsen so full and lively. Mari understood her mother -- she'd miss devising plans with Georgi, considering they were getting better by the day. Not as desperate, now, as in the beginning. The romantic texting had been reduced to a comfortable minimum, the poems were meticulously thought out and hand-written on old stationery that Mari had always somehow quite liked, the dates were not always to the same place and the flowers had dwindled down quite a lot as well.

If Katerina didn't want him back she was an idiot, really.

Mari suddenly felt the need to go and smoke, and so she excused herself with a grunt and disappeared through the backdoor, mentally berating herself for her hasty exit. It was very unlike her usual self. She stayed put for a few minutes after she finished and simply enjoyed the clear day before her mother's shout brought her back inside with a_ "On my way!" _for good measure.

* * *

That evening found her little brother and his living octopus in the rink, and Mari thought Georgi would follow them, but he was sitting forlornly at their dining table, his phone next to him.

"Is everything all right?"

Georgi shrugged. Mari rolled her eyes but aborted her mission to go smoking in favor of sitting down next to Georgi, waiting patiently. "Katerina's together with Daniil now. Mila texted me a picture of them kissing." He sighed. "I'm not even that surprised, really. I think… I think she had stopped loving me around Worlds. You know what's funny? Even after months of being together she never wanted me to call her by any diminutive. I simply thought she didn't like it, but then had no problem of Mila calling her Katja after they got close. I guess this had been over for a long time now, even if neither of us wanted it."

He sighed again. "At this point I should let romance lie to rest; it obviously isn't doing me any good."

Mari frowned. "Hey, no, don't say that. We did the notebook -- a pretty good job, if I can say so myself -- and you've got all of us here; Mom and Dad and Minako, the Nishigoris, my brother and Viktor. You've got me, as well. Especially me." She grinned at him, a small, wry upturn of her lips, but Georgi stayed silent, eyeing her like a scientist would a wriggling worm.

"Yeah," he said. "I got you."

Their voices died down after that, a calm silence settling over them, as Mari contemplated their talk, something surprisingly warm blossoming in her chest. She frowned mentally, excusing herself so that she may look into it in the confines of her room and her three cacti. Georgi nodded at her, a small incline of his head, and only when Mari had made it into her room and glanced at her latest cactus in its bright yellow pot (Georgi had remembered her favorite color), did the warmth make sense to her.

_"Oh for fuck's sake--"_

Well.

Didn't Minako always say that Mari could always come to her and use her barre again, even if she stopped with ballet?

She felt an awful lot like Yuuri, right now.

* * *

**_Of late, eternal Condor years _**

** _So shake the very Heaven on high _ **

** ** _With tumult as they thunder by, _ ** **

* * *

Mari wasn't a sentimental idiot, and furthermore wasn't _Georgi_, so she didn't run outside and back to him, but simply let the new feeling simmer while she tried to think about what to do. Her new realization didn't change her worldview all of a sudden, as Yuuri's bi-awakening at the tender age of twelve had done, nor the way she interacted with the Russian -- again, case in point: Yuuri and Viktor, those first few weeks in Hasetsu until their beach talk. Or Yuuri and Viktor in general, natch.

What she did was smoke in melancholy and contemplative silence until she noticed what she'd been doing, which was _blegh, what the hell?_ and then she realized that she was an adult and should stop behaving like a ridiculous idiot, it was _Georgi_ with his stupid horticulture knowledge and stupid, romantic disasters that he called haikus, and then it was suddenly a week after her initial realization and Mari was at the rink, hair elastic at the ready.

Georgi had noticed her a few minutes earlier but was finishing his current routine, improvised as it was, apparently. Not that she could really see that -- ugh, she'd have to get better at understanding the scoring system now, wouldn't she? She was almost the literal antithesis to what Georgi was as a person: silent, snarky, not batshit insane as most skaters were. Sarcastic. Mari was used to playing her cards close to heart in a way not unlike Yuuri, only that he usually internalized everything due to his anxiety while she simply was a very private person by herself. Not too keen on physical affection. Or kissing. Or sex in general, really -- her previous relationship fell apart because she hadn't been interested in having sex and decided that the idiot hadn't been worth it, and then promptly disappeared from home only to return two weeks later with a buzzcut and a biker gang at her heels.

(Her friends from Fukuoka, where she's gotten her first tattoo as well.)

What she was about to do was incredibly corny, and Mari had triple-checked to make sure none of the triplets were there to record it. She had a reputation. Georgi had stopped, was skating towards her with a pleased and exhausted grin, and before he could open his mouth to recite one of his haikus (she had grown too fond of them), she flicked the elastic against his chest with practiced ease, and beat him to it.

And because Mari had no delusions about her _own_ haiku-improv-on-the-spot abilities, it's part of a poem she knew he liked and was rather fond of herself:

_"I have no time for idle cares _

_Through gazing on the unquiet sky. _

_And when an hour with calmer wings _

_Its down upon my spirit flings—_

_That little time with lyre and rhyme _   


_To while away—forbidden things! _

_My heart would feel to be a crime _

_Unless it trembled with the strings. "_

And then Mari huffed and cocked her head to the side, thoroughly enjoying the stunned look on Georgi's face. "Well," she prompted. "If you'd want to, of course."

Georgi's face split into that annoying sunshine-y look that Viktor so often had, minus the heart-shaped smile, and he flung himself against her, grinning madly. They somehow ended up toppling down onto the floor in what was eerily reminiscent of the Cup of China and her brother, and Mari snorted at the thought. "I hope that you don't expect me to do some awkward and grand gesture out in the open in front of a million press people, _Popovich_."

"No, never. That's really more Vitya's thing than mine. All of that flamboyant energy has to be released somehow, you understand."

Mari's expression softened. "Hey, are you sure that you're happy with being stuck with me? Because I plan on sticking around longer than Katerina or Anya."

"As if you have to ask; _yes."_

* * *

Yuuri had (understandably, in his opinion) freaked out a lot when he'd seen Mari leaning against Georgi at breakfast, lunch and dinner the next day; had seen them touch casually and had seen lingering glances and Mari adjusting her hair at least three times -- and had hightailed into his and Viktor's room sometime during their fourth or fifth round of drinks after dinner, Viktor following not long after.

"What's wrong, _solnyshko?_" Viktor had entered as well, looking adorably lost.

Yuuri had been blushing the whole evening, the intensity only growing the longer he kept sneaking glances at his sister. Yuuri blinked at him. _"Vitya." _He said, the one word laden with such heavy meaning that it had Viktor shuddering. "Vitya. I know my sister. I know what my sister's like _when she's in love._ This, today? That was practically an obscene amount of PDA for her. _Vitya. I don't know how to react-!"_

Viktor froze. "Wait, really? So they finally--"

_"YES. _And I don't know how to feel about it!"

He tried to calm Yuuri. "But we've been discussing it, darling, no? And said that we'd be happy for them? _You told Mari how glad you are that she's happy."_

"Well, yes, but." It was his _sister_, for god's sake, and Yuuri felt freaked out just thinking about it. His sister and Georgi.

"I'm happy for them, though." Viktor mused, looking at nothing but in the general direction of the living room. "Even if it'll be kind of weird, though."

"Because Georgi is like a brother to you?" Yuuri was a sucker for Viktor Nikiforov Facts (TM). A blush dusted over Viktor's cheeks. "I mean, yes? I kind of did have a crush on him when we were fifteen, though."

Yuuri's brain, on overdrive the whole day already, decided to finally shut down for good. "You what?"

Viktor's blush intensified. "He was my first kiss! Granted, I don't think Gosha remembers it, and he's the straightest guy I've ever met, but one of our first interactions had been him offering to fix a tear in my costume shortly before Nationals. That's when he switched coaches to Yakov, and we've been out and celebrating and we got incredibly drunk. It also was the evening after our birthdays, so, you know. We kissed. I got a crush. Realized that I'm not even a little straight. Life went on."

"Wow." Yuuri blinked. "I honestly didn't expect that." Then something occurred to him. "We should probably tell Mila and Yura to not go through their plan of openly disgracing Katerina, let Daniil realize that she's not worth it on his own. I don't think Georgi would approve anymore."


End file.
